Promise
by aeternamente13
Summary: (Lizzie Bennet Diaries) William was eight years old when Dad came home from the hospital, tie askew, hair sticking out in every direction, with a full day's growth of facial hair, but with a proud grin on his face, to take William to see his new baby sister.


_A/N: Well, now that we've seen part of Gigi's face on her Twitter, two things are apparent to me: firstly, I was wrong about her appearance (I assumed curly blonde hair and blue eyes, but she has brown eyes, and most likely dark hair), and secondly, we'll probably be seeing her quite soon (if you follow me on tumblr, you know I'm keeping my fingers crossed for a Gigi vlog). So this will probably be the last hurrah for my particular characterization of Gigi before she finally graces us with her presence on screen. I hope you enjoy the Darcy/Gigi sibling love. :)_

**Promise**

William was eight years old when Dad came home from the hospital, tie askew, hair sticking out in every direction, with a full day's growth of facial hair, but with a proud grin on his face, to take William to see his new baby sister. When they arrived in Mom's hospital room, William felt as though he were entering a sanctuary, and when Mom allowed him to hold little Georgiana in his arms, she stared up at him with her wide blue eyes so like his own. A halo of downy white curls surrounded her tiny head, and she was sucking her fingers and making gurgly noises.

William fell completely and irrevocably in love.

He took to following Miranda, their nanny, around (she was the one to first call his sister Gigi), asking her to let him play with the baby, and to teach him to take care of her—feed her, dress her, bathe her, soothe her when she cried… he was even willing to change diapers. Miranda always laughed and said she wasn't one to turn down help when it was given. Mom and Dad smiled and praised their sweet, responsible little boy.

He was her first word. Granted, it sounded more like "Illie," but he gladly submitted to this mispronunciation for the next four years (before she moved on to the more conventional "Will"). He watched as she crawled and toddled, as her vocabulary exploded and she chattered to him and asked countless questions, many of which William had to refer to Miranda or one or the other of their parents. He read books to her, and she caught on to reading with a remarkable quickness of mind that astonished him.

"She's just like you," Miranda observed. "You and she both started reading much earlier than any of my kids ever did. I remember you had barely started talking, and there you were already with your nose in a book."

But Gigi still constantly brought books to him so he would read them to her, even if she could read them herself, or better yet, could recite them off by heart. She would run toward him with a stack of three or four of her favorites clutched to her heart, hand the books to him, and climb into his lap, nestling against him, waiting for the story to begin. And he would read to her while stroking her glossy golden curls.

They were reading Dr. Seuss's _There's a Wocket in my Pocket_ one day when the phone rang. They got no further than the Nupboards in the cupboards because Miranda entered the room with tears in her eyes, hesitating to say the words that would introduce tragedy into the children's lives.

On her way home from a conference in New York, Mom's plane had crashed. There were no survivors. William and his father took to roaming around the house like zombies, seeing nothing, feeling only numbness. Miranda wept when she thought the children weren't looking. For a time, since there was no body, Gigi refused to believe her mother was really dead. She was just lost, trying to find her way back home. She would come back.

She held onto this hope for as long as she could, ignoring anything anyone said to reason with her, but eventually…

William caught sight of one ringleted golden pigtail at the edge of the doorway to his room.

"What is it, Gigi?"

Gigi entered, looking exhausted. She crawled onto his lap and began sobbing into his shirt. William whispered soothingly into her ear, rubbed her back, and kissed the top of her head.

"M-mommy's really g-gone, isn't she?"

William sighed, the corners of his own eyes feeling uncomfortably hot and moist. "Yes, Gigi, she is." His voice cracked.

"Promise you'll never leave me, Illie."

He lifted her face and looked her solemnly in the eye. "I'll never leave you. I promise."

It was around that time that their father received another blow. The head accountant at his company died unexpectedly. His bereaved wife and son were left without the income and support they had grown accustomed to, and Father took pity on them, supporting them however he could.

William had always been pretty well acquainted with George, the son of the deceased, as their fathers had always been good friends, but now George was present at Pemberley far more often than he was absent. His personality, an engaging combination of charm and cheek, endeared himself to Father… and also to Gigi.

William began to notice it early on… the way Gigi would stare up adoringly at George, and blush scarlet whenever he said a word to her. Whenever George was around, Gigi acted as if William, her constant guardian and companion throughout her earliest years, no longer existed. Once, when visiting her in her room, William caught her absently doodling things like "G+G" and "Mrs. Georgiana Wickham" on a piece of paper surrounded by hearts and flowers.

Most people found it endearing, little Gigi's first crush, but William found it infuriating. He had an instinctive sense that George Wickham hadn't earned Gigi's admiration, nor did he deserve it. People smiled at that as well: William the stereotypically jealous and protective older brother. But they didn't understand.

The first spark of William's hatred for George may have been fueled by the protective jealously of an older brother, but George soon came to earn it pretty well on his own. Though Dad was the only reason George continued to enjoy a privileged life (private school, association with people in the highest social circles, the prospect of an Ivy League education), George showed open disdain toward him, bragging to his friends that he had Old Mr. Darcy wrapped around his finger, testing the limits of how far Dad's kindness could be extended by smiles and sweet talking.

By the age of fifteen, George was in the habit of dating a different girl every week or two, and it was clear by his attitude that he cared nothing for them beyond their appearance and their… willingness. William, at seventeen, had yet to say anything of his feelings to a girl in his chess club he'd been in love with for two years, and George often found opportunity to tease William, the socially inept lanky dork with braces, the virgin.

William supposed it was a blessing that Gigi was far too young for George to notice in _that_ way. He smiled at her and played house and tea party with her just enough to encourage her admiration, just enough to gratify his ego, to rob William of his sister as well as his father—his father who died the very next year from a heart attack, who, to the very end of his life considered George to be nothing less than a second son.

William and Gigi had now become orphans, with William barely of age. He now found himself drowning in paperwork—the execution of his father's will, arrangements for custody of Gigi, and in the midst of it all, application to Harvard, for every one of his advisors insisted on his continued education, and William himself considered it part of his duty.

He heard a soft knock on his door one night when he was trying to read his way through some pretty thorny legalese. He turned in his swivel chair and saw Gigi there, her wide blue eyes shining with eloquent sadness.

"Am I too old to sit in your lap?" she asked with a small smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Never," William said with a small smile of his own, extending an arm toward her in invitation.

She crossed the room and settled in against him, her hair brushing against his face, her arms slung around his neck. William wrapped her tightly in his arms.

"I miss him."

"So do I."

"Will, I feel like we're not as close as we used to be," Gigi muttered, "and it's all my fault." She began to cry silently.

"No, Gigi, none of it is your fault," William reassured her. "Sometimes, people just… drift apart."

"Not us," Gigi insisted, turning her tear-soaked face up to him, her eyes glinting with determination. "You've always loved me—"

"—since the moment Mom let me hold you for the first time." William smiled, lost for a moment in the recollection. "You were so beautiful—you still are."

Gigi paused a moment, then began hesitatingly. "You know… when Mom died, you promised you'd never leave me."

William frowned. "Gigi…"

"I know, you have to go off to college, and I want you to. You'll be brilliant." She managed a smile through the tears still falling unheeded down her face. "So I'm going to change my mind. You're allowed to leave as long as you promise not to forget about me."

She looked down self-consciously, and William lifted her chin so he could look her in the eye, just as he did when he made his previous promise. "I will never forget about you. I promise."

He kissed her on the forehead, then held her close to him, this one person in the world who held his heart completely, to whom he could make such a promise as he just made without a moment's hesitation.

Gigi sighed. "You probably need to get back to your work…"

Darcy shook his head. "It can wait." He held her still closer.


End file.
